“Oh, I fold them in the rugs, and they are all right. Now, here is your volume. Sit down there and read it.” “That means also, ‘and keep quiet,’ I suppose?” “I don’t imagine you are versatile enough to read and talk at the same time. Are you?” “I should be very tempted to try it this afternoon.” Miss Earle went on with her reading, and Morris pretended to go on with his. He soon found, however, that he could not concentrate his attention on the little volume in his hand, and so quickly abandoned the attempt, and spent his time in meditation and in casting furtive glances at his fair companion over the top of his book. He thought the steamer chair a perfectly delightful invention. It was an easy, comfortable, and adjustable apparatus, that allowed a person to sit up or to recline at almost any angle. He pushed his chair back a little, so that he could watch the profile of Miss Katherine Earle, and the dark tresses that formed a frame for it, without risking the chance of having his espionage discovered. “Aren’t you comfortable?” asked the young lady, as he shoved back his chair. “I am very, very comfortable,” replied the young man. “I am glad of that,” she said, as she resumed her reading. George Morris watched her turn leaf after leaf as he reclined lazily in his chair, with half-closed eyes, and said to himself, “Shop-girl or not, past or not, I’m going to propose to that young lady the first good opportunity I get. I wonder what she will say?” “How do you like it?” cried the young lady he was thinking of, with a suddenness that made Morris jump in his chair. “Like it?” he cried; “oh, I like it immensely.” “How far have you got?” she continued. “How far? Oh, a great distance. Very much further than I would have thought it possible when I began this voyage.” Miss Earle turned and looked at him with wide-open eyes, as he made this strange reply. “What are you speaking of?” she said. “Oh, of everything—of the book, of the voyage, of the day.” “I was speaking of the book,” she replied quietly. “Are you sure you have not fallen asleep and been dreaming?” “Fallen asleep? No. Dreaming? Yes.” “Well, I hope your dreams have been pleasant ones.” “They have.” Miss Earle, who seemed to think it best not to follow her investigations any further, turned once more to her own book, and read it until it was time to dress for dinner. When that important meal was over, Morris said to Miss Earle: “Do you know you still owe me part of the day?” “I thought you said you had a very pleasant afternoon.” “So I had. So pleasant, you see, that I want to have the pleasure prolonged. I want you to come out and have a walk on the deck now in the starlight. It is a lovely night, and, besides, you are now halfway across the ocean, and yet I don’t think you have been out once to see the phosphorescence. That is one of the standard sights of an ocean voyage. Will you come?”